Metamorphosis
by SSAEmilyHotchner
Summary: Multi-chapter fic. A loss of vision is life-altering. A loss of faith in oneself, in a higher being? Even more so. These are only a few of the many inexorable truths Hotch learns on the course of his quest for understanding, love, and an entirely new kind of perception. His quest will not be a lonely one, however. Emily simply won't allow it.
1. Tremble

**Author's Note: Here we are again – my newest multi-chapter. I'm not calling it an epic this time, because if I stick to my current outline (which never happens, to be quite honest), it won't be more than twenty chapters. This one will be primarily focused around Hotch, which is something I only just now realized I haven't done in _any_ of my multi-chapters/epics. So I'm hoping this will be a unique and rewarding experience for all of us.**

**With that being said, thank you as always for your incredible support and for taking the time to read. I sincerely hope you enjoy. This chapter will be shorter than most, seeing as it's just an introduction of sorts. But let's see where this road takes us, shall we?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

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He watched her as she slept.

The explosion had been hell, plain and simple. But being unable to help her in any way, shape, or form had been purgatory. In a flash of memories that were tinged with the pungent scent of smoke and burning wood, Hotch remembered. He remembered yelling frantically for his team to exit the building. He remembered the chaos that had taken control of his heart when he realized Emily was the only one who had yet to come out to safety and open air.

He remembered his voiceless scream as the building burst into flames and seemed to fall apart right before his eyes.

Lastly, he remembered the sweeping sense of relief that had nearly overwhelmed him and brought him to his knees as she came hobbling out, bruised and battered and blackened with dust, but very much alive. She had nearly collapsed at his feet, blood trickling down her temple and down one leg.

Not even a second had passed before he had scooped her up into his arms and placed her in an ambulance. She would be okay, he had assured himself. They would be okay.

And in the sterile, white-walled hospital room, they were. Emily was safe, yet he couldn't bring himself to let go of her hand as she slept. He couldn't look away from the steady rise and fall of her chest, the innocent enough looking stitches that presented a new addition to the skin of her forehead. Gauze covered a portion of her previously bloodied leg; he saw this only because of the way she was sprawled out on the bed, limbs placed haphazardly on the mattress and tangled with the sheets. For a moment, it even made him smile, for it made him think of the many mornings he would wake to a sight much like this one...though in a much brighter, happier setting.

But he wasn't going to dwell on the explosion for much longer. What mattered was that Emily, his courageous and incredibly beautiful Emily, was as good as back in his arms.

And then, mere seconds after her breathing pattern changed, she shifted; and Hotch knew that, alas, she was awake. Her eyes fluttered slowly open, her voice endearingly raspy when she spoke his name.

_"I thought I had already told you to go home and get some rest."_

A soft smile touched his lips. "You did," he murmured, dancing his fingers along the length of her arm. "I didn't listen."

"Clearly." Emily huffed out a little sigh as she propped herself up on her elbows and peered at him from beneath gloriously long lashes. "I believe the fact that I've woken three times, only to see you in the exact same position each time, might I add, is proof that I'm not dead." Despite her playful tone, however, her demeanor gentled at the sudden shift she saw behind his eyes. "Aaron..."

"I just...don't really want to leave you alone," Hotch admitted quietly, and for a split second, he couldn't bear to meet her inquisitive gaze. He didn't need to speak any further; Emily could feel every nuance of his emotions through the tightening of his hold on her hand.

Without thinking, she brought a hand forward and touched a finger to his chin, bringing his gaze up to meet hers. His face was delightfully close to hers, and she took a strange comfort from the way his warm breath fanned out on the bared skin of her collarbone. Her voice was tiny when she finally spoke. "I really scared you there, didn't I?"

Hotch blinked, caught off guard. He opened his mouth, but closed it when no sound came out. How was it that with only a few words he was reduced to nothing but a gaping and dumbfounded entity with no idea how to properly respond? What he wanted was to ask her how she was feeling; but he had done that each of the two other times she had opened her eyes and commanded his attention, and he knew asking a third time would not be something she took particularly well to. She was a stubborn woman, and he just couldn't fault her for it. Rather, he loved her for it.

He found himself adamantly shaking his head. "Emily –"

Just as he had known she would, she didn't let him get the statement out. For no reason at all, though she of course didn't see it that way, heavy guilt crushed her chest. "God, Aaron, I'm so sorry," she whispered; and in that moment, that little glimpse of heaven, their lips met in a kiss so sweet Emily felt herself falling toward the insanity she called paradise. It was like a breath of fresh air, being so _aware_ of every crevice of his mouth – of everything he had to offer.

His hand cradling the back of her neck was just the tether to earth Emily had been needing. But that was no surprise whatsoever; Hotch had always had an acute sense of just what she needed, no matter the time or place.

"Don't apologize to me," Hotch said adamantly, his eyes dark with an intimacy that took her breath away, and she could suddenly feel the words deep in her soul. Their kiss came to a languid stop as they drew slowly and reluctantly apart. "Never apologize," he echoed.

But the tables had turned and Emily had more to say. This time, it was her hand that came to run gently through his hair, and she couldn't help but smile just a bit at the way his eyes fluttered shut at the action – one of his favorites, she knew. "You've just been under so much stress lately," she crooned, pressing one last kiss to his forehead, on the same spot where she had stitches. "I worry about you."

"I'll be okay, Em," Hotch assured, and his placating smile sent a feeling of deep adoration coursing through her veins. It was almost enough to mask her concern. They were two sides of the same coin, feeling the same emotions and living what was so close to being the same life.

What he didn't tell her was that the anxiety was stifling, nearly agonizing. He didn't think it pertinent to mention that his heart had been pinching madly in a way that aspirin just couldn't alleviate. He said none of these things to her, however, for he didn't want her to be concerned.

So instead, he brushed it all aside.

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**Author's Note: Well? Any thoughts? You know I always love to hear from y'all. If you have the time, please leave a review; short or long, signed or anonymous, they are the best motivation and inspiration for me. Stay tuned for the next chapter!**


	2. Bright

**Author's Note: Good God, I don't think my writer's block has ever been this bad ****_ever_****. I chalked it up to exams for a while there, but even once summer began, there was just not a single shred of motivation to be found. It's still not flowing as well as I'd like, and I really hope this chapter doesn't come across as forced, but I finally resolved to just sit with my laptop until I could put words to the page. Hopefully it worked. Thank you all so much for your overwhelming feedback for the first chapter; I'm glad I've got you hooked! The pace of this story won't be as slow as some of my others. Case in point, we're getting into the action (and yes, the angst) right about now. Hold on tight!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One! **

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It was nice, being able to wake up and find herself in the safety of his embrace. For the chaotic span of time that had passed since the explosion, she had almost forgotten what his strong arms, his infallible and oh so comfortable warmth, had felt around her.

Almost.

A smile touched Emily's lips and made the corners of her eyes crinkle when she realized that Hotch was fast asleep. _The poor man_, she thought with a sigh. _He has exhausted himself completely._

_And I only added to that. _The thought sat heavily on her chest and refused to go away. As is, she hated seeing him so worn, so deeply fatigued, but this level of distress was one she never wanted to see again – one she never wanted _him _to experience ever again. Their week had been a bad one. It was a vague description; in their job, there was only ever bad or worse.

But this one had been indescribable, unquantifiable, unclassifiable. It was never easy when it involved children. Especially not when the children held an uncanny likeness to Jack. Add in the sleepless nights, no leads, a nearly uncatchable unsub, and the damn _explosion_…and it was the terrible reproduction of their hell.

Hotch's arms tightened around her then, almost as if, even in sleep, he could sense what she was thinking about. She wouldn't be been surprised if that were the case; he had always been able to read her like an open book, the infuriating man. With any other person, Emily would have been on high alert.

With Hotch, Emily felt completely and utterly safe. Feeling safe at all seemed to be quite the feat at the moment, seeing as just hours earlier, the world had been crumbling around her – literally. But she was relatively unscathed now, the child she had gone into the building last minute to retrieve was unharmed, and all was well. Emily could have asked for nothing more. Garnering a few scars would always be, in her eyes, a small price to pay in return for the life of a sweet and innocent little girl.

As she watched the steady rise and fall of Hotch's chest in a manner she knew he had done for her too many times to count, Emily couldn't help but trace a slender finger along the new stitches on her forehead, the thin lines that still marred her chest and abdomen, the outline of gauze on her leg. Rewinding a couple years, Emily once would have considered herself to be broken. Instead, she now felt more whole than she ever had before.

"I can hear your mind working."

So deeply lost in thought had she been that Emily didn't even notice when Hotch awoke. A soft smile on her lips, she pressed a gentle kiss to the very corner of his mouth in greeting. "I was just thinking about you, actually."

"You were, huh?" Slowly, wonderfully, Hotch returned the kiss until breathing became nearly impossible; until Emily was sure she was seeing stars. "What about?" His voice dropped in pitch, so much so that it rumbled delightfully in her ear. "Or am I not allowed to know?"

A breathy chuckle passed Emily's lips. "It wasn't anything like _that_, you incorrigible man. I was just..." she quieted a little as she raked her fingers through his hair, "I was just thinking that the two of us really make the perfect pair." There was something about the tone of her voice that made Hotch know she wasn't just talking about a trivial component of their relationship - though there was really nothing trivial about the bond they had forged over the years. Somehow, Hotch just knew.

She was referring to their scars.

They matched, in more ways than one. They were two sides of the same coin; the similarities were overwhelming, and they _loved it._ Without a word, Hotch took Emily's hand in his and brought it to his chest so she could not only trace over the healed flesh hiding beneath a thin t-shirt but so she could feel his beating heart under her palm as well. In the busy silence of the hospital, the simple action spoke volumes.

"We really do, don't we?" His honey sweet voice soothed her more than anything else could have; and briefly, Hotch wondered if she could feel the way his heart skipped a beat – for what reason, he didn't know; he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. After all, why should he be worrying needlessly when he had all that he wanted in life: Emily and Jack?

"Yeah." Emily rubbed the remaining somnolence from her eyes before propping herself up on her elbows and turning to her side to better face Hotch. Slowly, tenderly, she began to run a hand up and down his side that was closest to her. She knew it was silly, but she was needing that tactile, tangible connection between them more than ever. She had skated death before, too many times to count; that didn't make it any more bearable.

His resulting confused expression caught her off guard, however. "What's wrong, Aaron?" she asked, her eyebrows drawing together tightly. "Do you...want me to stop?" She pulled her hand away, her eyes all the while on his.

He shook his head, blinking a couple times as if he were trying to better make sense of what he was feeling. "No, no, I'm fine. It's just…my side is numb all of a sudden." He tried shrugging it off, tried feigning nonchalance, but his actions fell flat.

Emily let out a tiny breath of relief that she hadn't realized she had been holding. "That's because you've been cramped next to me for the entire night. This bed isn't made for two people, you know."

"I know, you're right. I guess I've just been..." Hotch searched for the right word, "paranoid lately." Was his mouth suddenly getting dry? He trailed a pair of shaking fingers down Emily's spine, watching greedily as she shivered and her eyes rolled slightly back into her head. It was a necessary distraction; the world was getting blurrier and blurrier, and Hotch didn't like it one bit.

Emily noticed; of course she did. Something wasn't right. She didn't know what, at the moment, but she could feel it in her heart, and it made her stomach churn. "Why paranoid, honey?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't notice the quiver in her voice.

"I...don't really know why, I..." He squinted, then turned away from her with a muted moan. "Em, can you...close the blinds in here? It's so bright. I don't...why?"

"The blinds are closed..." Emily's voice trailed away. Her heart was pounding now as she cupped his face in her hands and forced his gaze to hers. "Aaron, look at me." His eyes look unfocused, and almost glassy. "_Aaron_. Are you okay?"

Again, he squinted, his eyes nearly falling shut. His head lolled to the side as he tried to shake it in answer to her question. "You know those headaches you get where...when you're hungover...no, when you..." Hotch huffed, frustrated at his stammering. "Feels like when I ruptured my eardrum," he finally managed. "My head really hurts."

It was to the terrifying white noise of Hotch suddenly letting out a guttural groan that Emily frantically pressed the bright red emergency button on the arm of the hospital bed. _"Nurse!"_ she screamed, an action she immediately regretted when Hotch groaned louder and clutched at his ears in pain. _"Someone, please! Help!"_

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**Author's Note: Welp. And now the story truly begins. Now that I'm hoping my muse is back to stay, you all can expect more and more frequent updates as the summer progresses. As always, thank you so much for your continued support and feedback; I'd love to know what you think about the story and intended plotline so far, and especially your thoughts about this chapter!**

**Oh, and Happy Memorial Day!**


	3. Blurred

**Author's Note: I really wish I could say this is the end of the angst and the wretched surprises, but as the story's summary suggests, there's a whole new beast just waiting. That being said, I'm trying my hardest to ensure that chapter after chapter will prove enjoyable – or at least, intriguing enough – to read. Your time and feedback mean the world to me, so all I can really say is thank you! Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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A calming voice broke through the eerie silence. "What is your name?"

"Aaron James Hotchner."

"And how old are you, Aaron?"

"Forty-nine years old. I'll be fifty come November second," Hotch answered, anticipating the next question that was sure to come. His eyes were suspiciously everywhere but on Emily's as he patiently answered his nurse.

"Count backwards from one hundred in increments of five for me."

"One hundred, ninety-five, ninety, eighty-five..."

Hotch's voice steadily faded into the background, becoming a sort of delirious white noise for Emily. Her heart still pounded frantically, even minutes after being pushed to the side and forced to watch, unable to help in any way, as the man who had the potential to quite possibly be her soulmate was seized by what looked to be a violent stroke.

Tears stained her ruddy cheeks as she stared at him. _Fifty, forty-five, forty, thirty-five. _The jury was still out on just how serious the ischemic attack was; if there were more symptoms waiting to make a macabre appearance, Emily was certain she didn't want to know. She didn't want anything but the ability to rewind time.

Somehow, somewhere, there would have been a way to cinch their unsub sooner than they actually had. So much would have been spared; perhaps, if God was willing, there would not have been an explosion. She wouldn't have been caught in the middle of the chaos and ruin.

Hotch wouldn't have had infinitely more stress dumped on his already aching shoulders.

"Ten, five, zero." Emily listened to him further assure the nurse that Barack Obama was the current president of the United States, realizing all too well that he was deliberately choosing not to look in her direction. She wondered what she would see in his gaze if and when he decided to finally acknowledge her presence.

Still, she could hear his thready voice somehow managing to yell out, _"Don't move me to another room. Let me stay here with her."_ It was an order. A demand. It echoed in her eyes with plans to linger there forever.

Emily shivered, not because of the temperature or nonexistent draft in the room, but because she could feel a change in the energy of the room at the nurse's last query.

_Name the members of your team, Aaron._

She watched his throat work as he licked his dry, chapped lips and swallowed. He was still groggy, that much was obvious. But how could he forget the names of the family members he loved so dearly? "David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, Jennifer Jareau, Spencer Reid," he answered slowly. And then, his eyes met hers, and it was like a jolt to her heart. "And Emily Prentiss."

Worry. It was worry that Emily saw in his deep brown eyes.

She didn't have to think twice to know the worry wasn't for his own condition. It almost made her a little furious, a little crazed, the knowledge that he had brushed death but paid more regard to the stitches on her forehead, the bruising he knew marred her chest. It was unnecessary.

It was just more stress, and everyone knew he wouldn't be able to handle much more.

Neither Hotch nor Emily had registered the fact that the nurse had left them to themselves until he reached for his cup of water and caught her fingers instead. He watched as her beautiful eyes widened imperceptibly at the gentle touch. Just that tiny bit of contact wrought a chill down his spine. The things this woman did to him...he loved it.

"Hi."

"Hey." He drank greedily from the cup she held to his lips when not a drop of water was left, he reached for her with trembling fingers. "Emmy..."

"Are you okay? And don't say 'I'm fine'. I want to know what doesn't feel like it should, or...or..."

"Please don't cry." His whisper seeped through her skin, right to her bones. _Not for me. Not ever, Emily._

"I'm not," she insisted, even as he wiped her single tear from his cheek with his thumb. "Aaron, please. How are you?"

"I've been better." He was silent for the longest time, as if wondering whether or not the truth was really worth such a burden. "My vision is kind of hazy," he revealed, in a voice that sounded like his mouth was filled with cotton, "but I was told that's normal. Because I'm so tired, because I need sleep." _Because I just had a goddamned stroke._

One part in particular had caught Emily's attention, however. "Who told you? Your doctor? Or a nurse?" Her eyes shone startlingly bright. "Because we need the best opinions –"

"Em." Her _we_ hadn't failed to catch him around the heart. "They're taking care of me the best way they know how to," he said, albeit slowly; the lack of energy in his body and soul was abundantly apparent.

"I know, I just..." Gently, she reached out to run a hand through his hair, eventually resting her fingers on the ridge of his normally stern brow. "I just wish you didn't have to experience all of this. You endure enough stress as is and then..." _Then I just added onto that._ She left the words unsaid, knowing her misplaced guilt would only further exhaust him. There was no more room for depletion. "It was just unexpected, that's all I mean. Unexpected and utterly unwanted."

When Hotch looked at her then, his expression was almost sheepish. "My blood pressure had been high for about a month or so." He purposefully skipped over the adjective that had been on the tip of his tongue; he didn't think the word 'dangerously' would do much to enhance her appreciation of the whole affair.

"Wh – what?" Emily blinked. Surely she had heard him wrong. "Then...why didn't you do something about it?" _Why didn't you tell me?_

"I kept myself in shape and watched what I ate more rigorously than I had before. I thought I had it under control."

Something about the monotonously murmured sentences didn't sit well with Emily, and she knew just what it was; it was a feeling he had inspired in her too many times to count. "Aaron, you need to stop underestimating the stress you've put your body through! Please..." she shook her head, tightening her hold of his hand, "put yourself first."

His eyes were painfully soft when he chose to answer her finally. "I could tell you the exact same, Emily."

"But this isn't about me." With a cautious gaze, she watched as Hotch rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. "You're tired," she noted gently, her voice like a lullaby meeting his ears now. "Go back to sleep," she urged. "You need the rest, sweetheart."

The endearment made his heart swell, but it was his turn to shake his head. "I'm not tired." The overwhelming urge to ask her how she was doing overcame him, but he deliberately pushed it aside, knowing that it would be better if he waited for later – much later. "Talk to me."

"What about?"

"Anything." His eyes fell shut as she began to rub his forehead with her thumbs. "I just love hearing your voice." He could almost hear her smile at that, and it took nearly all of the might in his body to raise a hand and reach over to stroke her cheek. "You're so beautiful," he whispered reverently, drinking her in just as greedily as he had his water. It was a different kind of thirst, but his need for her, his need to _be_ with her, was just the same.

"Those two facts are completely unrelated," Emily said, flushing prettily. "But you're still a sweetheart."

Carefully, she leaned in so that their foreheads were touching; and absentmindedly, she wondered if he could feel the texture of her stitches against his skin. "When we get out of here, when I take you home, I'm going to make you a hot cup of your favorite tea. Then we'll get into bed, put in your favorite movie – or maybe we'll listen to some music, the Beatles White Album – and I'll give you a nice back rub until you fall asleep."

Hotch groaned a little, before leaving the lightest and most fleeting of kisses against her parted lips. "I don't think that would be conducive to making me go to sleep," he slurred slightly.

Her resulting breathy, beautiful chuckle set his nerves alight. "Oh, you. I don't know what I'd do without you, Aaron." She hadn't meant for the admission to sound so serious, so needy; rather, she had been striving for playful. But her attempt fell flat, and in that instant, her heart was clearly visible on her sleeve.

"That makes two of us." This time, the kiss lasted longer, which only served to make Emily all the more nervous as Hotch's nearby heart monitor recorded greater spikes in the rhythm of his heartbeat. Down the line, it would be something sweet to maybe share a laugh or two about, but in the moment, Emily wanted him as stable as possible.

That didn't mean she wasn't enjoying the kiss, though. There wasn't a thing the man before her didn't make enjoyable.

"I'm so glad you were released from the hospital without any complications," Hotch said against her lips. When Emily raised an eyebrow in question as to how he knew that particular fact, his sheepish smile was back. "I may have asked my nurse about your condition."

"Yeah, well, I may or may not have forced them to release me. I've had this job too long to not know how to change gauze or when stitches need to be removed." She kissed the unimpressed look off of his face, off of his turned down lips. "They wanted me out of that hospital bed as soon as possible," she added in clarification, "which I understand. There are too many people here who need that room more than I do." She gave her purse a little shake, letting him hear the rattle of a pill bottle inside. "They gave me the painkillers I needed, though. I'll be back in action in no time."

"Thank God," he said quietly, rubbing his eyes again. Seconds later, he was making a noise of sheer frustration. "I just had a stroke and all I want to do is stare at you for the rest of forever, but I can't even do _that_ because everything is blurry."

There it was again, the expression of pure concern. "Do you want me to get you a nurse? No, maybe I should see if one of them could page your doctor, that would be better –"

"Em, he's probably busy –"

The woman was stubborn as hell, and Hotch couldn't fault her for it one bit. "It's worth a try."

"But –" She was already gone. Hotch could hear Emily's voice slowly fading away, like the light at the end of tunnel: _Ma'am? Aaron Hotchner, room 116, needs to see Dr. Langley as soon as possible. He's been having problems with his vision ever since his stroke..._

At that, Hotch let his mind wander.

He thinks of Emily, curled up on his chest as they lay in bed, his fingers tangling in her thick, beautiful hair. He thinks of kissing her until they can no longer breathe, much less form coherent thoughts. He longs to walk the halls of a new house with her, hand in hand, as they choose the colors for each room. A deep burgundy, reminiscent to something so European, for their shared study, a cream and cantaloupe orange mix for the kitchen, a cool lavender, a green the color of honey dew, or maybe some shade of blue – he can picture them arguing good-naturedly about it – for their bedroom.

They don't argue about baby pink with _barely there_ yellow trimming for the nursery, however.

The thoughts, unbelievably lovely and sweet and perfectly distracting, lull him to sleep.

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**Author's Note: Not so much a cliffhanger this time as it is the calm before the storm – a fast approaching storm. This roller-coaster of an experience is about to get bumpy, ladies and gentlemen; I can just hope and pray that you'll continue to enjoy the ride. Thank you, as per usual, for your amazing support and kind feedback. It is always much appreciated, and I can't wait to hear what you thought this time!**


	4. Black

**Author's Note: ****And this is the time where I remind you all that I am neither a medical expert nor a doctor of any kind. The majority of the medical details will be covered in the next chapter, and while I have been doing extensive research, I am sure I'll make a mistake or two – so this is me asking for forgiveness and lenience in advance. As always, thank you so incredibly much for your support and feedback! It is greatly appreciated!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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When he wakes what has to have been only minutes later, the voices of Dr. Langley and Emily meet his ears, and he is infinitely confused.

Because, though Hotch was sure his eyes were wide open, everything around him was completely and terrifyingly black.

For a second, he didn't know how to react. He laid completely still as someone who he assumed to be Emily placed a tray of what smelled like dinner – was it meatloaf? – atop the side table. He felt the comforting touch of her hand on his shoulder.

And then he cracked. "Emily?" His voice was hoarser than he had anticipated, and it put them both on edge. "Em...is that you?"

Even if she hadn't been touching him, Hotch would have been able to feel her entire body tense from a mile away. His heart threatened to pound out of his chest now; briefly, he wondered if Emily's was doing the exact same.

It was. "Aaron?" Her voice shook. "Aaron, what do you mean? It's me, I –" Her heart stopped at the realization. "Can you not see?"

The barely there, frightened whisper was the most heartbreaking thing he had ever heard. For Emily, the most frightening was his response. _"No."_

It was like her world had stopped turning at his admission. For the life of her, she couldn't remember ever feeling this terrified – and she knew that couldn't even measure to what _he_ was feeling. Her hands went out to seek his immediately, and her throat tightened at the sheer desperation with which he held to her.

It was as if she could clearly see his age in his appearance now. The depth of his frown, the lines on his forehead, the crinkle at the corners of eyes as he squinted, hoping beyond hope to see something, anything. It made a silent sob slip past her lips.

Around them, Dr. Langley and a team of nurses set out to ask questions, do more tests, but Hotch couldn't focus, no matter how hard he tried. His frenzied thoughts raced past at a breakneck speed, making his stomach churn and his head feel dizzy. _What do I tell Jack? What do I tell the team? How do I do my job?_

_How do I do anything?_

It wasn't something he took for granted, his vision, but at the same time, it wasn't particularly something he actively thought about day to day. But now, as Emily's grip on his shaking fingers tightened and he heard her breath catch, he realized just how much harder everything had become for him, for them – in less than two days, to boot.

When she spoke, Emily's voice sounded like the two of them were submerged in water, and Hotch didn't like it one bit; he could barely make out her words, his blood was pumping so loudly in his ears. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Emily managed, her gaze steely yet frantic as she locked eyes with the good doctor.

"Yes, one or two times," Langley said; his chest tightened as he watched the two share a quiet sigh of relief, though the burden was certainly not disappearing any time soon. "My colleagues have experience of their own, as well," he assured.

"And how – how long was the patient..." Langley hadn't known this Emily woman for longer than a couple minutes, but he knew in that second that she didn't want to say _blind_. He couldn't blame her; he knew she was thinking that maybe, just maybe, if she didn't acknowledge the force behind the word or even the word itself, that their troubles would cease. His heart went out to her, and she pressed forward. "I mean, I know you said this is temporary, but...how temporary?"

There was a long pause, and Emily didn't like it one bit. "One of the patients recovered her vision after six months," Langley revealed, and though he had constantly rebuked himself, warning against being too emotional, too invested, he couldn't help the reluctance that bled into his voice when he saw the brunette's knuckles turn ghostly white. Beside her, Hotch was deathly still. Was he even breathing anymore? "Of course," Langley continued behind a clearing of his throat that didn't mask the quiver in his voice nearly as well as he would have liked, "each case varies because of differences in severity of the strokes, medical history, overall health. The list goes on and on."

Hotch grunted as he rolled over to one side – _so he is alive_, Langley noted – and brought Emily's hand up to touch his cheek. Still, Emily's questioning knew no bounds. "But what would you say is a typical period of time after which we can expect his vision to return?"

"If we're being optimistic?" He was met with nodding and those startlingly bright eyes again. "Four to five months, with the right treatment, heavy dosing of medication, periodic wellness assessments, and the consultation of optometric specialists whose contact information I will include in the patient file you will soon receive. A typical patient will see significant progress in six weeks."

He let out a long breath at Hotch's resulting expression, and immediately cut the medical jargon. "I know how overwhelming this all seems at the moment," he said gently, and gone was the facade of the indifferent doctor they had first been dreading. Both Emily and Hotch had to wonder in that moment who the doctor was addressing. "I'm not going to sugarcoat or make promises I cannot keep. But what I can tell you is not to panic, and to try as hard as you can to not stress." At this point, his gaze met Hotch's. "Your body needs to recover, and that takes time. Again, try your best to remain optimistic. It will do you good."

Finally, _finally_, after what had to have been years, Hotch spoke. "How long will I need to stay here?" Beside him, Emily barely concealed a shiver at the sound of his rough and weary voice.

"We're going to keep you under strict observation for the next couple of days, so we have as much information as possible to ensure that we diagnose correctly. I'm certain you will be able to go home before the end of the week, though."

Silence reigned, for the three of them knew that permitting Hotch to return home was not expressly indicative of any progress in his condition.

"I'll leave you two for a minute, let you talk things over," Langley finally said, inching towards the door with patient files and a clipboard precariously balanced in his hands. "A nurse should be back soon to ask more questions."

"Thank you." Emily bit her bottom lip as she gave Langley a watery but uncomfortably stiff smile. She made a mental note to speak to the man later in greater detail, but for now, she couldn't have left Hotch's side if she tried. As Langley's steps faded away down the hallway, Emily hoped beyond hope to shake the numbness that had settled into her bones. "Aaron, you need to eat something."

His response was predictable, though painful all the same. "M'not hungry, Em."

Carefully, Emily stretches out fully beside him, trying in vain to calm him down by massaging his scalp, by running her fingers through his hair, by pressing a feather-soft kiss to his jaw. She wanted to say something, anything; she just didn't know what.

"I'm so sorry."

Hotch shut his eyes at her words, wryly noticing that the action no longer held any significance or importance for him; what was he closing his eyes from or for? More darkness? His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth when he spoke again, and briefly, he wondered what Emily looked like in that very moment. It was almost unfair, the way he could picture her, clear as day. Brows drawn tightly together, eyes whirling with pain and confusion and heartbreak and love. Just the image, that not-even-there image, took his breath away. "I don't know what to say," Hotch stammered out frankly, bearing his soul for her to see. "I don't – I mean, I just...don't."

She shushed him tenderly then, her quiet exhale tickling his skin in a way he wasn't sure was good or bad. The next thing he knew, she was offering him a fresh glass of water, pressing it _just barely_ against his lips so he would know it was there. "At least drink something?" _For me?_

The water hitting his empty stomach, and causing it to grumble was her response. His sigh was heavier this time as he willed the tremors to leave his limbs.

Emily watched the scene with sad eyes. She knew they were deliberately side-stepping around the issue of his vision for now; what would happen when they couldn't afford to avoid it any longer? She swallowed, then tried for a smile. "You said you weren't hungry," she whispered in that sweet, lighthearted tone Hotch loved so much. Really, when she spoke with that voice, how was he supposed to deny her anything?

"I don't exactly have an appetite at the moment." He leaned into the caress of Emily's fingers against his jaw as she held him steady and extended a forkful of his meal in his direction. Nonetheless, he took a tentative bite, then made a little face and nodded. "I was right. It was meatloaf."

Unbidden, memories of the last time she had fed him came to mind, and he only became sadder. It was like a stab to his heart, being able to watch but unable to _see_ as she had surprised him one morning in the shower, holding a fresh strawberry to his lips and smiling that dazzling smile of hers as he took a bite and the juice exploded on his tongue. He had pulled her under the spray then, pulled her flush against his hard chest and the taste of her, _dear God_ –

He wondered what her lips tasted like now.

He cleared his throat, willing the images away. "Have you eaten?"

Her plastic fork clattered noisily to the tray, causing both of them to jolt. "Aaron –"

"What?" His eyes flashed open, but the poor man just looked dazed.

Like she had before, Emily rubbed her fingers against his temples, hoping to get at least the tiniest shred of stress out of his handsome features. There was silence, then a sad frown to match her previously sad eyes. "Don't worry about me, okay?"

_But you haven't even gotten the chance to heal!_ Hotch wanted to scream. Instead, however, he settled with a resigned little murmur. "I just wanted to share." Somehow, his fingers found some tendrils of her hair and he absentmindedly twirled one curl after another. Anything to avoid the churning at the pit of the stomach, the headache beginning to rear its ugly head, the blackness – the blackness everywhere. "It's not like the meatloaf tastes like anything anyway."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap," Emily crooned, kissing each one of his fingers one by one. If they squinted, if they tried their hardest to imagine themselves into a different situation, they could just as well have been lying in their bed, whispering sweet nothings to one another as they fell asleep. "I'm flattered that you want to share your cardboard with me, Aaron."

It wasn't quite a smile, more like a twitch of his lips, but Emily counted it as a win; even as she ignored the fact that, while he tried for a laugh, it just sounded like he was in pain.

Emily was beyond pleased as Hotch ate the majority of his food, and she couldn't help but tease him when a trace of jello lingered on his upper lip – anything to make him smile. She was struggling, as she knew he was, to keep her emotions in check and not break down. But now, he had drifted off to sleep, leaving her alone to her thoughts, leaving her to grimace as she stretched out her leg to change her gauze. It stung like the Devil and suddenly, her eyes were watering as she teacher for her painkillers.

The tears were not from her physical pain, however.

She should have been surprised when Hotch's admission broke the silence minutes later – hadn't he been asleep? – but she wasn't in the slightest. That didn't stop the stab of pain to the base of her spine when he turned to her with an expression so uncharacteristically _lost_ and buried his face in her hair. "I don't know what to do, Emily."

"I know, Aaron," she whispered, her gaze soft as she watched his breathing steadily even out. _Neither do I._

* * *

**Author's Note: ********Reviews are love. Please tell me what you think! ****There's nothing I love more than hearing from you guys, so please don't be shy. **No account needed.


	5. Numb

**Author's Note: Well, we are officially a quarter of the way through this story. Of course, I say 'officially', but we all know I never stick to my plans and outlines. Anyway, this chapter and the following one will contain the majority of the medical jargon, and then we'll get into the stuff that I absolutely can't wait to write; scenes with Jack, the team, and alone time for our two favorite dark-haired agents. Please stick around, I'll make sure I do my best to make it enjoyable! As always, thank you for reading and reviewing!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

Emily woke to the sound of screaming.

It took her a while before she remembered just where she was; and when she finally did, she wished she hadn't. Because there it was again.

_"Emily? Emily, where are you? Where are you?"_

Her heart actually stopped at the sight, and immediately, she grabbed his hands to assure him of her presence. "Aaron – Aaron, baby, I'm right here," she said, making to move one hand so she could stroke his cheek – but he wouldn't let her. His grip tightened, his eyes wild as he looked at her but didn't see her.

And that is when she realized he was crying.

_"Oh, sweetheart."_ They were tears of frustration, that much Emily knew. Her Aaron Hotchner simply did not cry – not for himself, not unless someone he loved was in perilous danger or on the edge of death, and even then, he only let that trace of what he wrongly thought was weakness break through when he was completely on his own.

Carefully, she urged his fingers from her wrists and reached to wipe his tears away. Hotch tensed for a second beneath her touch, but before she knew it, he had turned his head so that he could better rest his cheek against her palm. His quiet sigh matched hers, and Emily allowed herself the tiniest of smiles at the surprised little noise he made as she kissed his temple, then his lips.

The shock of his blindness had not yet waned, and wouldn't for a very long time, but Emily was optimistic enough to thank whatever deity was listening that she had already been released from the hospital. This way, she could better care for the man on the bed before her. She knew him inside and out, so she prepared herself for the stubborn facade she knew would snap into place the moment he was cleared to go home. _You don't have to do everything for me, Emily,_ she could hear him saying already. _I can function just fine._

But she wouldn't dream of leaving his side. Not for a second.

Running a hand through his short, coarse hair, Emily brought her lips to Hotch's ear in a whisper. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really," he answered numbly, rubbing his eyes as if it would suddenly fix his problem for good. That's what he was: numb. Painfully so. "What do they have for breakfast?" He paused for a moment, and then his face fell. "It _is _morning, right?"

"Yeah, it's morning, Aaron." She gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Want me to go see what they have? I think it's pancakes."

Hotch immediately wrinkled his nose, as if completely put off by the idea of being without her for even five minutes. "Just...wait a little while?"

With a tug to her heart, Emily leaned over to soothe his bottom lip, which he had previously been biting anxiously, with her thumb. "I'll be here for as long as you'll have me."

Not for the first time in an overwhelming forty-eight hours, Hotch felt that telltale tightness at the back of his throat. "Thanks, Em," he choked out.

"Anything for you, Aaron."

~.~.~

"How are you feeling today, Aaron?"

Emily watched as Hotch turned in the general direction of Doctor Langley's voice. "About the same as I did yesterday, I suppose," Hotch answered eventually, closing his eyes. It felt inexplicably strange, carrying a conversation with someone with his eyes shut; but then again, no part of the situation they were in was normal any longer. "It's still a lot to take in."

"That's perfectly understandable." Langley focused on Emily this time, his tone gentle. "And you, Emily?"

Hotch beat her to the punch. "I've been telling her to go home and at least try to rest, but she just won't listen to me."

"Aaron, I told you, I can sleep here," she insisted. "No matter what you say, or how you try to convince me, I'm not leaving the hospital until you do." Though she looked at Langley apologetically, her tone left no room for argument. Hotch kept silent.

Langley gave them both a tentative smile. "Well, I just wanted to drop by and clear up a few things before your specialist visits later this afternoon." Once again, he was back with his clipboard of patient information and a pen. "Let's talk about living arrangements," he said, in a tone that showed he needed to know but didn't want to pry. "Have you two worked something out? Is there family that will be able to stop by or..." His voice trailed away in question.

"We live together," Emily said, confirming the doctor's earlier speculations. "I'll be there." While Emily's features were set, however, something in Hotch's faltered.

"But you'll be at work for the greater part of the day," he said, clearly confused.

"No, I won't," Emily informed gently. "At least for a little while, I'll be on leave and then I'll transfer to desk duty and work at home. At least then I can finally get around to all that paperwork you've been nagging me to do."

Langley's gaze was anxious as he observed the two. While it was obvious that the couple would need more time to discuss the details of their arrangement, it was also evident that Emily had already given it much thought. She was prepared to make that great a sacrifice at the drop of a hat; Langley couldn't help but admire that.

Hotch was on the same page. "Emily, I can't ask you to do that for me," he said quietly.

But she simply shook her head. "You didn't," she reminded. "I want to do this." _Please let me.,_

"Okay." After a long, lovely moment, he reached out to find her hands again. "We'll talk about it some more later?"

"Of course." Finally, it was as if Emily remembered they weren't alone, and she turned in result to continue talking to the doctor. "You said there were more things you wanted to tell us before the specialist came?"

"Yes, I wanted to give you both some more information about what you can expect, how frequently a condition like this occurs after a stroke, the scientific details behind how the blindness actually happens, et cetera. By all means, interrupt if you have any questions." Langley flipped past a couple sheets in Hotch's file, but never once did he look away from the two dark-haired agents in front of him. "I did some reading last night. There was a case one of my colleagues oversaw some years ago, where a fifty-two year old man woke up blind in one eye and could only half see out of the other after having a stroke similar to yours, Mr. Hotchner."

"Aaron," Hotch insisted quietly.

"Aaron," Langley amended with a kind glance – though Hotch couldn't possibly see it. "It took approximately six months before the patient was able to drive in good light and go back to work. Like I said earlier, the majority of progress was made four to six weeks after his ischemic attack. After that, progress slows down and the extent of full recovery just depends on the individual. Anybody under fifty-five, with good cholesterol and blood pressure levels, and a diet particularly low in salt and saturated fat, should expect to gain back at least sixty percent of normal vision, but it does depend on the severity and location of the stroke."

Emily managed to stop herself from further picking at her nails to look up, the questions running through her. _Good cholesterol and blood pressure levels. _She started shaking her head; hadn't Hotch told her his blood pressure had been elevated? What did that mean now? How would that affect his recovery? Emily had all of these questions, but was only able to choke out one word. "Location?" she inquired.

Langley nodded, preparing to launch into an explanation he had to have known was coming. "The majority of visual processing occurs in the occipital lobe, in the back portion of the brain. Most strokes affect one side of the brain. If the right occipital lobe is injured, the left field of vision in each eye may be affected, and vice versa." There was a pause, and Hotch shifted uncomfortably in the bed. "Having both sides of the brain affected is...less common, though it isn't rare, as is evidenced by the situation we find ourselves in today."

With a sigh, he set down his clipboard and clasped his hands together. "Aaron, Emily, there is plenty reason to be optimistic. While between ten to twenty-five percent of stroke survivors may have vision loss in result, natural vision improvement is common. Your neuro-ophthalmologist, who you will meet later today, will diagnose and recommend one of two different rehabilitation plans, either compensatory or restorative vision therapy. Since that is not my area of expertise, I will leave the explaining up to him to ensure that the both of you are best informed."

Silence filled the room.

"Any questions?"

"No, um," Emily blinked to clear her muddled thoughts. "I don't have any, not now. Aaron, honey?"

Hotch shook his head. Stunned into silence did not even begin to describe his current emotional state: thoughts of _therapy, neuro-ophthalmologists, rapidly disappearing careers, _and _Jack _were all that he could make sense of, if that. "I'm sure I'll have some later," he said eventually, and there it was again – that numbed color to his voice that communicated his years more than real words ever could. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Of course." Langley was rising to his feet when he noticed the empty table top beside the bed. "Did either of you two want anything to eat?"

Emily looked at Hotch expectantly, and couldn't help but give a watery, adoring smile when she heard his response.

"Pancakes?"

* * *

**Author's Note: ****Please drop me a line telling me what you think! I always love reading your feedback. Is there anything you'd like to see in the upcoming chapters? Let me know, I'm anxious to hear from you. ****As always, thank you so very much for your time and support.**


	6. Heavy

**Author's Note: So I'm about to go out of town for two weeks, but I don't think that'll interfere with my usual posting schedule for this story (one chapter per ten days). I just thought I'd let you guys know just in case I can't and don't respond to reviews all that quickly. Either way, though, I'm always so grateful for your feedback and time, as you guys know very well by now. So hang tight and stay tuned; the chapter after this one will be family-centric with a whole lot of Jack. And who doesn't love that precious child?**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

"Tell me what you're thinking."

His eyes needlessly open, Hotch stared at the ceiling. On one hand, he was thankful for Emily's voice cutting through the unbearable weight of his unbelievably loud thoughts. She had always been the greatest distraction, and _of course_ he would be able to rely on that still. Her infallible support and care was just one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place. But a part of him also secretly wished that he had the power to block everything out, to not only arrange his life in perfectly organized, tightly closed boxes, but to get rid of it all, set it on fire, watch it burn to embers. He wanted to start anew, not unlike a phoenix.

But damn it, that was all legend.

"I'm thinking that I have no idea how to function like this," he finally answered; though the words came out so nonchalantly, as if he already had gone and accepted the fact that he _couldn't see_. In the reappearing silence, Hotch knew just what Emily was thinking, all of the doubts she was having. And he was right. Because Emily had never seen him this vulnerable before.

The simple fact of the matter was that he had never _been_ this vulnerable before, not even with Foyet and Haley and the fiasco that had been his life during those unforgivable months. It was strange and, admittedly, a little bit painful to see – though Emily wasn't about to let Hotch know the latter. For as long as she could remember, Hotch had been the moving force that had kept their team together. There were rules from the Bureau and Internal Affairs, sure, but the man had an indescribable air that kept them in line and functioning better than virtually every other unit in the FBI. When he smiled that rare smile of his, the day's stress somehow disappeared from your mind.

Emily wanted so badly to see that smile now. But instead, she found herself recounting his words from the night before.

_The muscles of his jaw were strung as tightly as the ones in his shoulders when he bit hard on his bottom lip. The only things he could make out – and even then, just barely – were the vaguest of shadows, mere differences in shades of dark and darker, and the shadows were driving him insane. "Don't let me go, okay?" he rasped._

_She buried her face in his neck and breathed in his telltale scent: spice, musk, and the slight salty tang of sweat. "I wouldn't dare."_

The memory put a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was wrong, this was all _so wrong_. The roles should have been reversed, if not non-existent. Aaron Hotchner was not a vulnerable man, nor had he ever been one. Together, they were going to make sure this blindness didn't change that.

On cue, in a typical Hotch move, he turned back to her with poorly masked concern turning down his lips. "How are you feeling?"

Briefly, she thought about the bone deep ache that was creeping just out of reach after having changed her gauze for the hundredth time and dousing the wound with antiseptic solution. When she answered, though, Emily was not thinking about her condition. "Terrified," she admitted frankly.

Quietly, and Emily knew he was rebuilding that stony exterior of his already, Hotch answered with an accompanying nod. "That makes two of us." Because, stony exterior or not, blindness took a hell of a lot out of a person.

After a long pause and a lot of staring down at nervously twisting hands, Hotch cleared his throat, an uncomfortable expression crossing his face for but a second before the unreadable mask snapped into place yet again. "So I called Jessica."

_That_ made Emily's head snap up. "You did? When?" _How?_

"When you were asleep," Hotch said simply.

Emily's brows drew together in confusion. "And when did I fall asleep?"

"A couple hours ago. You were out like a light." It was a miracle, really; Hotch had been beginning to wonder if Emily had somehow adapted her body to be able to go without needing rest for extended periods of time. Her silence made him realize something. "You're wondering how I knew," he said: a statement, not a question.

Emily's eyes widened imperceptibly. What did one even say in a situation like this? "No, Aaron –"

Hotch surprised her with a small smile. "I called out to you and you didn't answer," he explained. "I could hear your breathing; it was deep and completely evened out like it always is when you pass out from exhaustion." He sighed, but his facial expression portrayed only fond adoration. "You need your rest, too."

"Yeah, I know," she conceded, pouting like a glum little child. It was a look that probably would have made Hotch laugh if –

Emily shook the thought away. "Anyway, you called Jessica?" she prompted.

Her curiosity was piqued as she watched his throat work as he swallowed thickly. "Yeah," Hotch said on an exhale. "I didn't go into much detail, but...she's bringing Jack over in a couple hours."

It was then that Emily realized just how awful she probably looked. She couldn't even remember when the last time she had taken a shower was; was it two or three days ago? She brought the neckline of her blouse up to her nose.

_Yup. Three days._

She grimaced a little as she rose to her feet, pulling her tangled hair up into a high ponytail and running a hand down her shirt to smooth out the wrinkles. "I'm going to go freshen up, okay?" Splashing water on her face would do her good, Emily figured. She could just about feel the uncomfortable weight of the bags under her eyes.

But before she could move away, Hotch grabbed her wrist. Instead of imploring her to stay, however, he did just the opposite. "Go home," he insisted, exasperated. "I know what you're going to say; you don't want to leave. And I get that, Em, I really do. But I think I'll be fine on my own on a floor stocked with competent doctors and nurses while you take an hour to shower and change into new clothes." He brought her hand slowly to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles, and internally prided himself on the way his own fingers didn't shake – for once. "Please, Emily."

Emily stared at the man in front of her before huffing and giving his hand a squeeze. Normally, she would have protested even further, but in the moment, she conceded readily; the thought of a scalding hot shower was just too good. "Alright, alright," she said, raising her hands in the universal sign of defeat. "I tell you, it's a good thing you're so likeable, Mister." _Likeable, infuriating, same difference_. Carefully, she leaned in to press a chaste kiss against his lips, laughing a little breathlessly at the surprised and needy noise he made in result. "And handsome," she murmured in addition. "And a fabulous kisser."

Hotch grinned then, despite his nerves about Jack visiting, and it was the most beautiful sight she had seen in as long as she could remember. "Right back at you."

~.~.~

Her hair tangling and curling haphasardly as it tumbled out of her towel and down her back, Emily stared into her closet and the full-length mirror on the inside of the closet door, needlessly stressing herself out as she tried to find something acceptable to wear. It wasn't like it really mattered; she wasn't going anywhere but back to the hospital, but _still_.

Finally settling with her favorite pair of old jeans and a grey tank top, Emily was puttering around the bedroom, fluffing pillows and straightening bedsheets and unplugging the bedside lamp, when she saw it. One of Hotch's shirts, a white cotton blend with thin blue pinstripes, was draped over the back of her favorite chair. It was like a quiet invitation, a subtle call home.

Emily didn't think twice before shrugging it on over her tank top, letting the long sleeves cover the array of new scrapes and bruises that littered her skin. It had been a long time, years in fact, since she had last cared about the effect the rough-and-tumble lifestyle had on her body; those scrapes and bruises, the cuts and grazes, they all simply came with the job.

Blindness didn't come with the job, though.

With that thought, Emily grabbed her bag and rushed out of the house before she could dwell any further on the topic.

~.~.~

Emily walked back into Hotch's hospital room just in time to hear an unfamiliar man's voice spouting out an explanation to something that was surely a hundred times more complicated than he was letting on. The man spoke with ease and familiarity, which was comforting enough, until Emily realized just who he was; and just how much she had missed.

"Compensatory vision therapy includes the use of scanning training and visual field awareness systems, which compensate for vision loss by shifting images from the non-seeing to the seeing visual field. Vision restoration therapy, on the other hand, makes use of the brain's ability to reorganize neural connections to improve vision. It's a non-invasive, neurostimulation program customized for each specific patient's type of vision loss using light stimuli to target neuronal structures and achieve high recovery potential."

It took Emily's not-so-quiet shuffling toward one of the bedside chairs for Hotch's new doctor to realize that there was someone else in the room. Finishing his last thought, he turned to face her and rose to his feet, extending his hand for her to shake. "You must be Emily. I'm Daniel Parker, Aaron's neuro-ophthalmologist."

Emily managed a kind smile. The man looked nice enough; blonde hair with almost imperceptibly streaks of grey matched blue-green eyes that suggested they saw the world in an entirely different way than most people. And with his job, he probably did. "It's good to meet you," she said, retaking her seat beside Hotch and touching his wrist to assure him of her proximity. "I hope I haven't missed too much?"

"I was just discussing the types of therapy Aaron can expect to undergo in relatively general terms. I'm afraid I have to leave to meet another patient at the moment, but Aaron assures me he understands the details we went over today. Besides, I will be back later with Doctor Langley to go over the differing, more personalized methods for his specific case." He patted Hotch on the arm before looking over Emily's shoulder at the door. "But if you have any questions of your own, especially after Aaron is released from the hospital in two days," he added, leaning over to write something on a small scrap of paper, "here's my number just in case I can't answer when a nurse pages me." Parker flashed her smile of his own before ducking away. "Don't worry. Aaron is in good hands."

He was gone before Emily even had the chance to blink. All the while, Hotch sat up in bed, his body turned toward Emily as she stood in the middle of the room, a little stunned.

Hotch coughed into the back of his hand. "Don't say it, Em."

She whipped around, almost as if she had forgotten of his presence; though how could she have, when the infuriating man had occupied her thoughts for years? Moving toward the bed and sitting at his side, she shook her head. "I didn't realize he was coming in the morning. If I had, I would've waited until later to run home..."

He tugged her insistently enough so that she was soon lying on her side. "I think you forgot what someone generally means when they say, 'don't say it'. _I'm okay_, alright?" Hotch asked her quietly. "You're here now."

"Yeah. I'm here now."

Emily was barely back at Hotch's side, sans Doctor Parker, for half an hour before there was another knock on the door. This time, she knew just who it would be; and she thanked her lucky stars about a thousand times that she hadn't missed _this_. Like Hotch so readily reminded her, he was physically okay without her while still in the hospital. But emotionally? Emotionally, when he was about to inform his sweet son of something the boy would likely not understand?

That was something else entirely.

"You ready?" she asked Hotch gently, running a thumb over the prominent ridges of his brows, hoping that her touch would at least do _something_ to lessen the weight of the world that had settled onto his shoulders. "Because if you want to wait a while longer, I can ask them to come at another time."

Hotch's answer – to her first question, he had hardly heard her second over the sound of his heart pounding – came with a curt nod. "Bring them in."

* * *

**Author's Note:** **More Doctor Parker to come! That was just an introduction. The next chapters will be primarily about Jack and the team, though, so hopefully that's something to look forward to. As always, thank you for taking the time to read; I would love to know what you're thinking about the story so far, so if you have another minute to spare, please don't hesitate to drop me a line! It's always greatly appreciated. Much love to you all, and see you back here in ten days!**


	7. Weightless

******Author's Note: I'm back from Baltimore! So now that I've put updating this off for long enough, I'll cut to the chase without taking up any more of your time. Thank you guys so very much for being patient with me and continuing your support of this story; I appreciate it immensely. It is fantastic to hear that you guys are enjoying the way the story is going, so hopefully I will be able to continue to live up to your expectations. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

_"Daddy!"_

Hotch gave an exaggerated, playful grunt as Emily lifted Jack onto the hospital bed and the boy fell at his side. "Hi, buddy," he greeted, his heart wrenching and nearly stopping as he heard his blissfully oblivious son murmur a smitten little 'hi' to Emily as she enfolded him in a tight hug.

"Are you okay?" was Jack's immediate query. "Aunt Jessie said something happened! Daddy, what happened?"

More than ever before, Hotch found himself wishing his vision had never disappeared. He wanted _so badly_ to see a head of sandy blonde hair, wide hazel eyes, a lopsided and toothy grin. He wanted to see his son. "A lot has happened, Jack," Hotch finally answered, his throat tight. "Jessica?"

"I'm right here." The woman spoke quietly from Emily's side, wringing her hands nervously as she watched the scene before her unfold. She had the nagging suspicion that she knew what was going on, what had happened—and she really hoped she was wrong.

Small brows furrowing as Jack looked from his father to his aunt in confusion, he fidgeted restlessly in Emily's embrace. "...Daddy?" he asked meekly.

With a heavy sigh, Hotch's face fell. He knew his son desperately needed to know, he just wasn't sure...quite how to tell him. "Jack," he began, reaching toward Emily so she could place the boy in his waiting arms. "Buddy, there's something you need to know. I had something called a stroke. It's...kind of like a heart attack," he explained, fishing anxiously for terms the six year old would understand.

Sure enough, Jack instantly looped his arms tightly around Hotch's neck. "Is your heart okay?" he said quietly, as if afraid to know the answer.

Hotch smiled down at him, hoping the curl of his lips looked something like a reassuring gesture. "Yes, my heart is fine. You and Emmy always make sure of that. But, while my heart is okay...my eyes aren't," he finished almost silently. "I can't see."

Jessica only barely hid her gasp behind a sudden coughing fit. At the same time, Jack was simply getting progressively more confused. "What do you mean you can't see?" he asked tinily. After all, his father's eyes were open and they seemed to be looking right at him—right?

Hotch found solace in the slow, calming patterns Emily was tracing on the palm of his hand. He knew she was trying to distract him, trying to take away his pain; and as always, she was doing a hell of a good job. "The stroke affected the part of my brain that deals with vision," he continued to explain. "I won't be able to see for a while."

_For a while._ "So it's not permanent?" Jessica finally spoke, slowly moving closer to the bed.

"No," Hotch answered with a ready nod, and he didn't need to be able to see to know that everyone around him, including Emily, had found at least a tinge of relief in the answer. "They say it'll last around...four months." _If I'm lucky._

"Wait, so..." The adults watched as sweet little Jack finally connected the dots. "Are you blind, Daddy?"

Hearing the words aloud from none other than his infant son made Hotch's stomach lurch. "Kind of, yes," he managed.

There was a long pause. Then: "So do you have to wear dark sunglasses? Because I have some you can borrow."

In an instant, Hotch found himself blinking back tears. "No, buddy," he choked out eventually. "Dark glasses won't do much for me. I really appreciate the offer, though. And if I ever need sunglasses," he added, adoration thick in his voice, "you'll be the first to know, Jack, I promise."

"Okay," the boy said simply, sounding chagrined.

"Hey," Hotch murmured, his fingers lightly brushing against Jack's chin. "I have really good doctors that are going to start me on therapy soon, alright? I'm going to get well super fast."

Jack grinned at that. "Because you're Superman," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Seconds later, his face was lighting up as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Are we—are you going to get a guide dog?"

Though he was certain the answer was no, Hotch couldn't help but afford his son a small indulgent smile. "I don't know, buddy. I don't really think so, but we'll see, okay?"

This time, Jack's response was much brighter. "Okay."

Hotch knew that Jack didn't understand the full meaning of the knowledge he had just gained—that being blind meant a lot more than just being unable to see. He wasn't about to explain to the young boy that he felt paralyzed in a sense, though. While at least a portion of the burden had been lifted from his shoulders and he felt that much more weightless, Hotch was sure Jack would have question after question as they traveled down the road to recovery—and that fact made him very glad. After all, all things considered, Jack was dealing with the revelation rather well.

Jessica, on the other hand...

Stealing away from the bed, Emily moved to take Jack's small hand in hers, realizing that Jessica and Hotch needed a moment alone. "Hey, sweetheart," she said quietly, as if sharing a scintillating secret. "Want to go find the vending machine with me? Maybe we can get a candy bar or something like that."

"Sure," Jack said immediately, nodding eagerly. Something made him pause, however, and Emily watched with a fond smile as the boy turned back to his father for permission. "Is that okay, Daddy?"

"Of course it is, Jack," Hotch answered. "But hurry back, alright? I miss you already."

Jack was already skipping out the door with Emily at his side when Hotch heard, "I love you, Daddy."

And there it was again, the tightness in his throat, the burning of his eyes. "I love you, too, buddy," he said, almost to himself.

Silence lapsed as his two favorite people in the world walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts—and his former sister-in-law. "Jess?"

"Hey." Swallowing thickly, Jessica moved to sit at the foot of the hospital bed, watching him with wide, incredulous eyes. "God, Aaron...I'm so sorry," she said finally. "When you called, I—I had no idea it was this serious."

"I think you see why I didn't talk about this on the phone," Hotch said, turning to his side and closing his eyes as if falling asleep. "It's something that needed to be divulged in person."

"Of course, of course." Jessica suddenly felt overwhelmingly flustered. "Are you—is there—is there anything you need?" she stammered. "Anything I can do?"

Hotch exhaled slowly, wracking his mind for a suitable answer to her imploring questions. "These next couple months are going to be...hard, to say the least. I haven't even begun to think about how I'm going to do some things. Emily will be around to help with a lot, thank goodness. But when it comes to Jack..." Without his volition, thoughts of a similar conversation after Haley's death invaded his thoughts, and Hotch suddenly found it incredibly hard to breathe. "We'll play this by ear for now," he said resolutely. "Since I obviously won't be able to go to work until my vision comes back, I think our current arrangement will still work out. Or, at least, I'm going to try my hardest to make it."

"I know. That's something you've never needed to tell me; the sacrifices you've made for raising Jack have proven your dedication enough. Just...take it easy, okay?" Jessica pleaded, chewing on her bottom lip in a display of obvious anxiety. "I'm sure I'm not the first person to tell you this, and I probably won't be the last; but take some time to take care of yourself first. You need your rest." She smiled sadly. "Find yourself again."

"I will," Hotch vowed, clearing his constricting throat. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." She reached over to give his shoulder a consoling squeeze just as Emily and Jack re-entered the room, the latter with a package of Reese's peanut butter cups in his hand. Rising to her feet, Jessica turned in the direction of the other woman in the room. "Hey, Emily. Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Hmmm, I don't know if it would be smart to leave these two boys alone. Who knows what trouble they'll get themselves into?" Emily laughed as both Hotch and Jack gave identical cheeky grins as she walked back out of the room with Jessica at her side this time.

"How are you holding up?"

"All things considered? Okay, I guess. It's just...hard," Emily said finally. "Aaron is usually the steadfast, strong one and seeing him like this has been...different in a way I had hoped he would never have to experience."

Though Jessica understood perfectly, she found herself shaking her head. "How are _you_?" she clarified.

Emily smiled ruefully at that; and Jessica couldn't help but notice how it didn't meet the brunette's eyes. "Taking it one step at a time," she answered after a long, ponderous moment. "We've had a rough couple of days."

"What happened?" Jessica asked, motioning toward the stitches still visible in her forehead. Just minutes earlier, down by the vending machine, Jack had pointed them out, too; it was a story Emily was used to telling by now.

"We were apprehending a suspect when a fire started," Emily began, wringing her hands together. "I went in to pull a little girl out...and the fire reached some accelerant we hadn't known was in the building." Turning away from Jessica's inquisitive gaze, Emily simply stared at her feet—at her worn jeans that covered more cuts, more bruises, more burns. "It flared and basically exploded right as we left the building. I cut my forehead open and burned some skin on my leg." _Just another day on the job._

No matter how hard she tried to keep the thoughts at bay, Emily couldn't help but remember how terrified Hotch had looked when she had finally emerged from the smoking wreckage. He had told her not to go in, to wait for the fire department...but she hadn't listened, and her headstrong display hadn't _really_ surprised him. He knew the love of his life, he knew she was stubborn; he knew she hadn't been about to let an innocent little girl die on their watch.

Shaking the thoughts away, Emily finally looked up to see Jessica leaning against the wall, clearly in awe of the nonchalance by which Emily had recounted the day's events. "I can't even begin to _imagine_ doing what you and Aaron do every day."

"Some days are worse than the others," Emily said with a shrug. "In the end, I'd like to think the sacrifice is worth it. I just...wish Aaron's vision hadn't been one of those sacrifices."

"He'll get better," Jessica said certainly. "But he needs you."

"Yeah." Emily's chest tightened as Jessica pulled her into a much-needed hug. "Yeah, I know."

~.~.~

"What did you and Jessica talk about?"

With Jack and Jessica having left after the former had fallen asleep, the room was quiet—though not uncomfortably so. The silence worked to soothe their frayed nerves. "You," Emily said eventually, as she curled up against his side. "And the events of the past few days."

He nodded, his eyes once again closed as he burrowed into his pillow. "I figured."

Twining their fingers together, Emily brought his to her lips and gave him a small little smile; he could feel it against his gun-calloused skin. "Are you ready to get out here in two days?"

"Part of me is." Something in his expression hardened. "But the other part..."

Emily sighed quietly, thinking of all the troubles they had yet to endure. "I know," she said simply.

"I won't be able to do a lot of things I used to," Hotch said, frustration _finally_ bleeding into his voice.

Since the beginning of the ordeal, Emily could remember him being scared, worried for himself and for others, and even accepting—but angry? She had been beginning to wonder when that particular emotion would rear its ugly head. "That's not true," Emily countered adamantly. "You don't need eyes to see. I'll be here. I'll be your eyes."

_"It's not the same,"_ he bit out.

Her breath catching in the back of her throat, Emily reached out with trembling fingers to slowly scratch his scalp. "I know," she repeated, on a whisper this time.

"I..." Hotch's face fell at the realization that he had just turned his increasingly volatile temper onto the one person who deserved it least. "Em, I didn't mean to snap."

"You're tired," she said in explanation, brushing it off with ease. "Sleep, Aaron," she urged. "I'm right here."

"Emily..." His voice broke but it didn't matter because, soon, they were kissing slowly, and this was _Emily_: the woman he would do anything for, the woman who had done so much for him. The embrace was heartbreakingly sweet, so much so that the burn of tears sliding down his cheeks was easily eclipsed by how good it felt to be like this again, with Emily in his arms.

"Close your eyes and rest," he heard her murmur; and when he complied, she kissed his eyelids so tenderly that Hotch briefly wondered if such an action was enough to restore his vision. In that moment, it was just like Emily had said; he didn't necessarily need eyes to see—not when he had her.

* * *

**Author's Note: Let's be honest, I couldn't _not_ end with the tiniest bit of fluff, especially after such a heavy chapter. And don't worry, there will be more of Jack—and the team, too—to come! I do hope you enjoyed reading, and would love to hear from you, to get to know what you think will happen next (or should happen next). So please leave a review, if you have the chance! **

**For some added incentive, reviewer #100 will get a oneshot written for the prompt of their choice...so thanks again! Much love to you all.**


	8. Anxiety

**Author's Note: It looks to be that time of the year again; summer vacation is coming to a close while classes are soon to begin again. Just thinking about how I won't have as much free time as I do now to just sit down and write makes me sad, but rest assured I won't be giving up on this story any time soon. As hard as it is to write Hotch as blind, it's something I want to continue learning and writing about. Besides, with Emily and their relationship in the mix, there are just so many emotions for a writer to explore, and I can't wait to do just that. In the meantime, I hope you all are enjoying your own exploring, and I'm so thankful for your continued support. Fingers crossed I can keep living up to your expectations! Thank you very much and I hope you enjoy this next installment.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

"Sounds like you've been busy this morning," Hotch said out of the blue, catching the end of what sounded like a serious phone conversation and approaching footsteps.

Emily started as she re-entered the room and sat back down beside Hotch on his bed; she hadn't realized he was already awake. "I wanted to wake you up and surprise you," she said, setting her phone down on the small bedside table as he reached out for her and pulled her closer to him.

"With?" Hotch inquired curiously, even as he pressed a kiss to her sweet mouth.

"That was Strauss," Emily revealed eventually, carding her fingers slowly through Hotch's thick black hair. "I called her to let her know I would be taking indefinite leave from work." There was a pause. "Of course, she already knew about your situation and...well, it didn't take much explanation for her to realize just why I was taking time off. She put two and two together rather quickly." Briefly, she thought about how anxious she had been as she had set out to divulge their relationship to Strauss. The older woman had been so calm and receptive to the news...almost scarily so. But Emily didn't have the time to think about Strauss's demeanor any further, not when she saw the expression on Hotch's face.

He looked...resigned. "I want to argue with you about this," he said, shaking his head. A hint of a smile touched his lips. "But I'm too grateful. Though I do wish you would have let me talk to Strauss with you; I didn't want you to have to deal with that all on your own."

"Aaron...I'm a big girl. Don't worry about me." She laughed adoringly at the begrudging little huff he gave at her insistent words. "Besides," she reminded, "no matter how much you argue with me, I'm not changing my mind."

"Believe me," Hotch drawled, stretching his tired muscles, "I know."

Emily's smile only widened. "Today's your big day," she said finally, bright and eager. Two slender fingers caressed the stubbly skin of his jaw as she spoke excitedly. "Want me to go start the paperwork so you can get out of here?"

His response was quiet, tender. "Stay here for a while?"

In a heartbeat, Emily's expression softened. "Yes, sir," she said just as gently. Her eyes stung a little as he once again reached out for her. This time, however, she took his hand in hers and guided it to the side of her face, her heart breaking even more as his whisper-soft touch moved from her cheek to her hair.

"You have done so much for me, Em," Hotch whispered, his eyebrows drawn together as he fought to find the right words to say. "And we have yet to even leave the hospital and go back...home." He swallowed thickly at the mere thought. "Back to the real world. It means everything to me."

"_You_ mean everything to me. Simple as that," she said in return.

"Emily," Hotch huffed again, chidingly affectionate.

Happier than they had been in a while as they laid together in comfortable silence, Hotch and Emily paid no heed as minute after minute ticked by, and no words were exchanged. For a long, lovely moment, nothing but a few lazy kisses or the other's steady breathing held any importance—but something eventually began to niggle at the forefront of Emily's conscience. "After we check out of the hospital, I need to run to the office to pick up some paperwork," she said; and suddenly, she felt inexplicably nervous. "I...also did some thinking," Emily began, watching with widened eyes as Hotch turned to her expectantly, "and, well, I figured we should—or I mean, I could—maybe tell the others what's going on."

Instantly, Hotch stiffened.

He knew everything she was saying was true; after all, it was an issue they had discussed before, more than once. But regardless, the prospect set him on edge.

"Is that okay?" Emily queried almost timidly, her gaze colored with worry.

Hotch bit his lip, thinking it over for what had to have been the hundredth time. But logic won in the end; he knew his team deserved to know what was happening, for his blindness affected them almost as directly as it affected him. And besides...they were his dearest friends.

Finally, after what had to have been hours, Hotch responded with a sure nod. "I want to go with you," he said resolutely.

Emily only barely masked her surprise. "Okay." She blinked. "Okay, yeah, that's great, Aaron." Rising on suddenly unsteady legs, she bit back her blossoming smile. "I'll, uh...go get the paperwork."

Hearing the smile in her voice, Hotch gave her one in return, though his stomach was turning over even as he spoke. "Thank you, sweetheart."

~.~.~

"It feels good outside," Hotch murmured, reveling in the comfortable stretch of his leg muscles as he walked at Emily's side. While the sun cast itself down in nice, warm rays, there was also a cool breeze that weaved its way between the branches of trees, through beds of freshly planted flowers—even between Hotch and Emily's tightly twined fingers.

"It sure does," she hummed, guiding him back to the parking lot. Emily breathed out a little laugh as they neared the Bureau-issue SUV and she unlocked the doors. "Now get in the car," she joked, playfully nudging him in the side.

"Yes ma'am," he retorted cheekily, mocking her own similar response from earlier. The short drive to Quantico was quiet enough, but Hotch was duly distracted as he realized he could still recognize the twists and turns of the road, even without seeing the way Emily was driving the car. He tried in vain to brainstorm how to break the news to the team, but no thoughts came to mind—nothing.

"Want to listen to music?" Emily asked, breaking the silence after a couple minutes. She touched his arm softly, hoping to assure him, in her own way, that everything would be alright in the end.

Hotch shrugged. "Maybe later," he said, his mind clearly somewhere else; and Emily knew exactly where.

"You're worrying about telling them," she stated, a comment and not a question.

Hotch turned his head in the direction of the passenger side window, so as to hide his face from Emily's line of sight. "Yeah," he managed to bite out, priding himself in the way he prevented his voice from quivering or breaking.

"We've known them for years, Aaron," Emily said, reassuringly once more. "You know they're going to be nothing but supportive in every way possible."

He nodded, though a frown still turned down his lips. "It's just..." he breathed out a frustrated sigh, "I never expected to have to go through something like this, you know?"

What he failed to divulge to her was that he was actually concerned about the structure of the team. He didn't doubt the leadership abilities of either Morgan or Rossi for a second...but all the same, he couldn't help but worry. The team meant so much to him; he didn't want his agents to suffer because of him.

As if she could read his mind—and God, maybe she could—Emily answered Hotch with an understanding kiss to his cheek as she turned into the Bureau visitor's parking lot and put the SUV into park. "Of course, Aaron. I know."

The newfound stillness of the car nearly made Hotch's heart stop as he realized just where they were. "Are we here?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. _So soon. It's so soon._

"Yeah."

Suddenly, it was as if his mind had gone completely blank; all he could remember was Jessica telling him to take care of himself, to take time to find himself again. He felt stifled, he was choking, _he couldn't breathe—_ "Emily...sweetheart, I..."

"Do you want to wait here while I go in?" Emily cut in, slowly but smoothly, pretending for both of their sakes that she _hadn't_ heard just how anxious Hotch was at the moment. "I won't take too long."

His heart pounding against the sturdy wall of his chest, Hotch closed his eyes and let out the quietest sigh of relief. "You're a lifesaver," he said simply.

There it was again, a stinging and burning behind Emily's eyes as she forced herself to remain strong. "I know you'd do the same for me," she returned easily, giving his hand a squeeze before opening the driver's side door.

"I hope I never have to," Hotch said immediately, his voice hard and earnest.

Speechless, Emily softly patted him on the shoulder before leaning in to give him a sweet parting kiss. He was such a good man; he was one of the best. "I'll be right back," she promised—and then she stepped out of the car and into the sunlight, leaving Hotch alone with nothing but his churning thoughts to keep him company.

* * *

**Author's Note: I know, I know, I was supposed to include the team in this chapter, but I decided to end here at a little 'cliffhanger' instead. Typical move for me, right? But that just means that the next chapter will be even better! Anyway, as always, thank you so much for taking the time to read and review; I look forward to hearing your thoughts and feedback for this chapter, if you have just ****_one_**** more minute to spare. No matter if the review is long or short, signed or anonymous, I am ever so grateful. Thanks again, and please stay tuned for the next chapter!**


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